Wedding dress purchased, with no groom in sight

I mentioned earlier in the week about buying my wedding dress. Here is the complete story:

I bought my wedding dress today. Never mind that I am not engaged nor do I have plans to marry anytime soon. I saw the dress while poking around on jcrew.com, looking for leopard-print rain boots, and liked it, so I bought it.

That’s how I make buying decisions.

I either like something or I don’t. I put in an offer on my house after a single, brief walk-through and purchased each of my automobiles right after the test drive. If something’s for me, I feel it. (Too bad I can’t say the same about judging people.)

The $69.99 price tag on this dress didn’t hurt, either.

The quadruple and quintuple-digit dollar figures so many women spend on wedding gowns perplexes me. Sure, I want a pretty dress. Or, more importantly, a dress that makes me look pretty, but as someone who’s known as the mega-sale shopper among friends, family and co-workers, I knew the perfect dress could be found on the cheap.

The idea of “the dress” first crossed my mind last winter after my sister got engaged. I watched her try — and dismiss — gown after designer gown. Names like Monique Luellier and Reem Acra, names I had previously heard uttered no where other than style magazines and on the red carpet, were now part of my family’s wedding lexicon.

Being the discount diva I am (case in point, free shipping on aforementioned dress), I suggested my sister, Cindy, check out some of the consignment wedding shops near her apartment in New York City.

I’m normally not one for used clothing, but nothing is as next-to-new as a wedding dress. One would guess the gown had been worn once, if at all (there is an increase in engaged couples splitting before saying “I do”). Cindy dismissed this idea, as if I had suggested she get hitched in a bowling alley.

So, unlike most females who model a bevy of dresses, take pictures and lament with their moms, sisters, girlfriends, unsuspecting shoppers, I bought my dress after seeing a single picture, without trying it on.

Typically I’m just a “window shopper” online, since most of my actual purchasing is done in and around New York City. My Web shopping bags have lingered empty for a while. I don’t think I’ve had a visit from the UPS man in a good two months, if not longer.

But as I perused the rain boots and cashmere sweaters in J. Crew’s sale section, there it was: My dress. Pure ivory silk, simple and unfussy. No ball gown bottom, no beads, no lace, no crinoline.

The floor-length sheath reminded me of something Rebecca Romijn would wear. While even the most fabulous dress won’t have anyone mistaking me for the former Mrs. Stamos, this dress would put me as close as I was ever going to get. The sight of it made me a bit giddy.

I don’t do giddy.

This purchase perplexed my friends. When I called Kerry (and woke her) to tell her, she thought her groggy state prevented her from hearing clearly. I am the girl, after all, who never talks about her wedding.

Even as a kid, I was void of dreams or visions of the white dress, the rose petals … the family drama. When my girlfriends talked about their expectations and desires, I listened and gave my wedding as much thought as I did the winner of Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest.

But the perfect dress is like the perfect man: The discovery happens when you least expect it. Many of the most valued things in life seem to be bestowed upon us like this.

10 Responses

I asked you if you would post a picture the other day, so I went to the jcrew.com link to search for the dress. And I just have to say that if I saw that dress and it fit me well, I would totally buy it and save it, too. Why not? It’s a beautiful dress and way cheaper than any other wedding dress you’ll ever find. Nice.

I know that my taste changes…I look at my prom pics from about ten years ago and say, “what was I thinking!” I looked like such a debutante/cinderella/southern belle..that is soo not what I am about now.

I know my daughter tried on maybe a hundred dress, anyway it seemed like that. She ended up buying one from NYC that cost me a bunch, and she had to travel down there for fittings etc… what a waste to me. I went to the Mall to get a tux.

I bought my wedding dress (and shoes) and my flower girl’s dress on eBay. I bought my bridesmaid’s dresses on an online wedding classifieds site. Total (including shipping and insurance)paid was less than $300 and each one was absolutely gorgeous. In each case as soon as I saw the photo, I knew that was it. Yes, of course, I’ll share photos with you – just ask. The adult dresses had been worn, but were in perfect shape – mine from Demetrios and theirs from Alfred Angelo. The flower girls dress was new with tags – a sample from a bridal shop. In each case, I talked by emailed with the seller so I knew exactly (measurements, etc) what I was getting and established the level of trust I was comfortable with. This was so easy for me and my wallet – it breaks my heart to see brides get caught up in the hype of it all. There are choices and you don’t have to give up anything.

I have just bought a used wedding gown on eBay, 2 days ago (from a private seller), and i’m not engaged yet (although marriage has been discussed in a positive way). I paid £50 for the dress and £15 postage. The dress originally cost £1400.

I am practical person for the most part, with a big desire not to waste money, and so the thought of having my perfect dress for a perfect price was a big draw, even if it is a way off still. I saw it as a way to save a huge amount of money, and also avoid the pain of dress hunting in a hurry (I know that when (if?!) we get engaged it will be a short engagement).

I felt a bit odd doing this so early but something in me just knew this dress was right for me. Crazy to some folks maybe, but to me a practical, stress reducing, money saving tactic for the most part.

I’m glad I’m not the only one! I saw my dress (a beautiful vintage 1950s dress) online for $110, but I have no man in sight. It fits beautifully and I hope my man shows up in the same way so someday I can wear my precious dress. I don’t usually go gooey over clithers